


Just Okay

by fakebodies



Category: Tron (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, its melancholy and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 22:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18019340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: Program and User, in a new (old) world. They’re... trying to make things work.





	Just Okay

Things had been better, once upon a time. Flynn remembers it all; he’d never forgotten. How could he? He’d grown to love Clu, cycles ago, before the coup. Before the ISOs, before Rinzler, before Sam. Just ‘before,’ in that nebulous period of time in his memories that he can classify as ‘good.’ He stares into Clu’s eyes and sees himself, his same desperation for ‘before,’ for ‘good,’ twisted and corrupted into bitterness because Clu is young. Thousands of cycles old and still thirty-four. Younger, even, but that had been how old he was, and Clu has his thirty-four-year-old mindset. Words catch in his throat and Flynn realizes, for possibly the first time in his life, just how badly he fucked up. He has no idea what to do, until Clu drops to the bridge in front of him like a sack of potatoes— Quorra, she’s good at action. He smiles a little at her, and she smiles understandingly back. When he hefts the unconscious Clu into his arms, nobody questions him.

Sam is hesitant to leave him alone with Clu, once they’re back in the arcade, but Flynn assures him it will be fine. He knows his own program, even if sometimes he wishes he didn’t. Sam just nods, looking at his father like he’s an idiot (and maybe he is) before taking Quorra’s hand and whispering something to her. Her eyes light up; Flynn is happy for her. For both of them. They leave, together, and Flynn knows they’ve got a long, happy life ahead of them. He’s not sure, when it comes to himself. Bringing Clu up to his old apartment, Flynn lays him on the bed and settles in for a long night.

Clu returns to the waking world at four in the morning, about an hour after they’d made it to the User world. His home world. Still, it’s hard for Flynn not to picture himself as an outsider. He’s lost in his thoughts until, WHAM! He’s on his back on the floor, Clu on top of him, and damn does that ache— he’s not thirty-four anymore, not like Clu. He’s about to protest, when he notices Clu’s panic-stricken face. He grips the fabric of Flynn’s shirt so hard his knuckles turn white, hands shaking as he demands to know what Flynn’s done with his disc. The lightbulb pings on and Flynn suddenly feels horrible, but he wedges one elbow beneath himself, taking Clu’s hand and guiding it back to where Flynn’s own disc should be.

“It’s okay, man, take it easy. Neither of us need discs anymore.”

That sentence takes some explaining; the whole time, Clu is straddling his lap, one hand still gripping Flynn’s shirt. Clu hadn’t even noticed their surroundings or his lack of circuits until Flynn pointed them out. For the first time in cycles (years, centuries, forever) Flynn feels like it’s ‘before.’ That elusive time when Clu had looked at him with so much wonder and enthusiasm it had made his chest ache. Flynn remembers sneaking kisses from Clu while the admin worked, the way Clu would push him away with that little indulgent smile. Work before play, after all. Somehow, the memory just stings, and Flynn is filled with the need to apologize. How often had he ignored work he should’ve been doing, leaving Clu to deal with his mess? How overworked had the admin been, hiding it from his own User? Or maybe he hadn’t hidden anything, and Flynn just never looked hard enough. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, Clu.”

Clu looks at him with bitter confusion, questioning the User why. Why indeed? Because he should’ve been a better leader. Because he’d been young and stupid, making Clu pay for his mistakes. Because he never listened, never acknowledged the problems growing right under his nose. Because he’d treated Clu like a plaything, someone he could use and discard (it’s just a program, after all). Because Clu is him, and he’s Clu, and they’ve both ruined so much, and at the end of the day it all falls on Flynn. Because Clu didn’t ask to be made, didn’t ask to have all that responsibility shoved on him, didn’t ask for such a selfish idiot of a User. Flynn’s hands come to rest on Clu’s arms, looking earnestly at the program-turned-man.

“Because I _love_ you.”

He hopes that gets the message across, and he thinks maybe it does. Maybe. Clu’s face scrunches up in anger, turning away as tears start to fall.

“I hate you.” Clu says, with so much sorrow behind the words that Flynn slides his arms fully around his program’s shoulders, gently guiding the admin into a hug. He gets no resistance, Clu resting his head on Flynn’s shoulder.

“That’s okay.” Flynn whispers into Clu’s slicked-back hair. He remembers the first time Clu had styled his hair this way; Flynn had never said anything.

“Your hair looks nice.”

It’s an impulse. Clu huffs, frustrates with the User. He’s never gotten Flynn’s sentimentality.

“I’ve had it this way since before the coup.”

“I know. I never said anything when you changed it, so… I’m making up for that.” Flynn shrugs. Clu looks up at him, like he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. Flynn can’t say he blames the admin; he shrugs again. Clu stares at him, working through things in his head, until finally nodding. He rests his cheek back on Flynn’s chest.

“It’s never going to be the way it was.” Clu’s grip finally relaxes, fingers smoothing out the wrinkles left behind.

“We’ll make it better.” Flynn smiles a little at his program, exhausted and hopeful. He’s starting to think things will be okay.

“I don’t like it when you say that.” Clu shoots Flynn a pointed glance— fair enough, Flynn supposes. Things hadn’t exactly gone well before.

“Sorry. I’ve had a lot of time to learn my lesson, though, and this isn’t building a new world. This is just us.” he rests his own cheek on top of Clu’s head, fingers running through hair that is still brown.

“Just us and our future, man. We can make _that_ better. We’ll figure it out, together.”

“Okay.” Clu says, and he nods, and that’s enough for Flynn. They’ll get to ‘good,’ even if ‘before’ lives solely in the past. Right now, in this moment, ‘okay’ is perfect. He holds his program in his arms until sleep overtakes them both, there on the floor of his old apartment above the arcade. Tomorrow morning Flynn will introduce Clu to the wonderful world of cinnamon rolls, and Clu will smile at him, and ‘okay’ will look a little bit brighter.


End file.
